


Poetry

by Aida



Series: 30 Day AU Challenge [25]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, F/M, Fluff, Rule 63, fem!Dwalin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida/pseuds/Aida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins is in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poetry

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you guys gave me suggestions for the circus prompt, and I liked all of them. Problem? I would've just kept on typing, not knowing when to stop. 
> 
> So I Dwilbo'd. Bilbo's "The Hobbit" for reasons, and Dwalin's the Bearded Lady. 
> 
> Enjoy~

The Erebor Circus was a small troupe, at least considered so to some. Thirteen people, all together, long since forced from their homes. They were seen by many as wild and absurd. Freaks, even.

But Bilbo didn’t think that they were freaks. He never did. Even before Thorin, the Ring Master and leader of the troupe, had taken him in, he didn’t think that they were at all freakish. Not Ori, the assistant, or his brothers, Dori and Nori (Dori was in charge of helping Bombur with the food, beverages, and the resident strong arm; while Nori helped supplement their earnings). Not Kíli, or her brother Fíli, knife throwers. Not Bifur or Bofur, who made toys and entertained the little ones as the clowns. Not Gloin, the lion tamer with the lovely wife and charming child. Not Oin, the troupe’s doctor. Not Balin, the mystic, and certainly not Dwalin.

Dwalin, the bearded lady, who was also competition for Dori’s strength. Who was Thorin’s closest friend and ally. Who was one of the most wonderful women Bilbo had ever met. 

It was silly, really, how Bilbo was so frightened over ever approaching her. Yes, she was tall and rather imposing, but she was also incredibly kind. Always tending to the animals and defending their troupe. Defending Bilbo, even, when he was teased for his short stature, pointed ears, and awkwardly large feet. 

“The Hobbit”, they called him, a label Bilbo only tolerated from his troupe. The complete opposite of Dwalin in every sense. He was short when she was tall, practically bare when she was hairy. Soft and pudgy when she was all rippling muscles under her dresses. 

She was beautiful in his eyes, and it angered him when others couldn’t see it. When she would lash out at the public’s cruel words. He could always see how they pained her, even though she would never show it. He would always wish he could be free to try and comfort her, but he couldn’t. For she wasn’t his to comfort. Probably never would be.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to give her what affections he could get away with. 

Bilbo liked to think of himself as a bit of a wordsmith. He had written little tales all his life, and was currently working on writing about his experiences with the troupe, but he also liked to write poetry. And poetry he wrote for her. Pages of it. Almost ridiculous amounts of the things that he did his best to hide from the curious eyes of the Durin Duo (as Fíli and Kíli had taken to dubbing themselves). 

He had taken a few and folded them up neatly for that particular night, addressing the papers to her in as neat a handwriting as he could muster with his shaky hands. He stood at her trailer, second guessing himself as he debated leaving them at her doorstep along with the wildflowers he had carefully picked for her. 

It was ridiculous, he thought. He had helped take down three rather annoying brutes that tried to steal their horses. Got the troupe out of a rather ridiculous arrest. Yet he didn’t have the courage to let Dwalin know what he felt for her. Even if it was in a small, anonymous way. 

She would never have to know, if he just followed through. She would never know period. For it was ridiculous to think that a woman like Dwalin would even be remotely interested in Bilbo the Hobbit. But he wanted her to know regardless. Wanted her to know that she was loved in some way, even if it wasn’t by someone she actually wanted.

He heard shuffling going on inside Dwalin’s trailer and, cursing, threw the flowers and poems at her steps before dashing off, ducking around a corner. He had hid himself just in time for Dwalin’s trailer door to burst open, stepping down a step with her hands fisted on her hips, sending the lot a stern gaze as she looked around. She was in her robe, a soft silk-like material in a deep burgundy color, yet she was still mostly in full makeup. 

Bilbo watched with baited breath as she finally looked down, furrowed brow tilting in confusion and taking up the flowers and poems with surprisingly gentle hands. She paused to smell the flowers, studying them under the dim light coming from her windows. Eventually, she unfolded the papers, and he wrung his hands together as he watched her read them.

He wanted to start over, then. Somehow find a way to stop time, tear those words from her hands and replace them with something better. They weren’t good enough. They would probably _never_ be good enough.

But then he saw it: A softening in her brow, a gentle parting of red-stained lips, and a glassy sheen in her eyes. And Bilbo smiled with her, for _he_ put that smile on her face. Even if she didn’t know it. 

Even if she would never know it.

So he turned to go back to the trailers he shared with the clowns and the cook, content in the fact that he gave her that little piece of himself. Just that piece, and nothing else. He wanted more, desperately so, but this was enough.

“Bilbo!”

Bilbo froze, eyes widening. How did she know he was there? Of course, she didn’t guess because she figured out that _he_ gave them to her. It was impossible! He wanted to hide, tried to find a place to do so, but the problem with Dwalin’s trailer was that it was out in the middle of the others. No foliage. No parts in need of repair. Nothing.

He was defenseless.

“Bilbo.”

He turned sharply, trying to not give anything away, straightening his shirt as Dwalin stood several feet away.

“Er-Yes, Miss Dwalin?”

“Dwalin, please.” She corrected, as she had done many times before. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was just… going out for a stroll.” He answered, trying not to fidget. “You know, something I do from time to time…”

Dwalin nodded, twirling the bundle of wildflowers in her fingers. “You wouldn’t happen to know who left these at my door, would you?”

Bilbo swallowed, because he wanted to be brave enough to tell her the truth. To tell her that he did it, that _he_ loved her enough to do it. But he wasn’t.

“Ah-no.” He muttered. “I… I didn’t see them, no. Sorry.”

Dwalin hummed, and Bilbo tensed a little as she started moving closer. “You know, I don’t think that there are many who know the meanings of flowers quite like you do, Bilbo.” She spoke, and then she pulled out his poetry. “Not to mention that these were done in your hand.”

He flushed, ducking his head, foolish to think that Dwalin didn’t pay attention when he had to write something down for someone. That she wasn’t listening when he taught Kíli about flowers and their meanings in order to impress her uncle’s assistant. He should’ve tried to hide his tracks better. Now he had to face the cutting blow of rejection face to face instead of hearing Dwalin air it in front of the troupe. 

“Bilbo…”

He flinched when he felt gentle, yet calloused hands guide his head up, and he sucked in a breath when he saw that same soft look in her eyes that he saw when she read his poetry. 

Then he went dizzy when she kissed him. And not something like a kiss on the forehead or the cheek, but a gentle, soft kiss on the lips. He pressed in gently, not daring to push too far in case he was reading this wrong, and he desperately hoped he wasn’t.

She pulled back, but only to press their foreheads together. “ _Thank you_.” She told him. “They mean so much more to me, now that I know for certain that you left them.”

“Oh,” He breathed, blood rushing in his ears as his heart pounded. “Ah-Well, I just… I wanted to… You are…”

She silenced him with another kiss, and one he threw himself into readily. He tangled his fingers into her bead and didn’t even fight it when she scooped him up into her arms.

“Bilbo…” She breathed, and he heard her breathy chuckle as he nuzzled her neck, now free to do so. “Do you wish to know the other reason I knew they came from you?”

“How?”

She kissed his cheek, and he looked down at her, eyes warm and dancing with mirth. “I saw you outside my window.”

“Ah.”

**Author's Note:**

> Plot of my favorite movie next...
> 
> ... But how am I going to do that!?


End file.
